That's not what Anders told me
by walkingdisastersharkchild
Summary: "He may - or may not - have mentioned the real reason you have robes is so you can grease the old sword without those Templar bastards noticing." - Oghren. Well, swords were greased lacking reason. Did provide a good argument, though. Anders/F!Andras


**I've been playing Dragon Age relentlessly. Sue me. It's amazing.**

**This began from that conversation between Anders and Oghren about why mages wear robes. I found it fricking hilarious, and this story began.**

**M for a reason. I mean, it's a little light, but it really isn't. Eh. Also, ONESHOT! Couldn't fit it in the summary. Dammit.  
**

**My Orlesian mage is Taima Andras. Taima means 'peal of thunder', so there are quiet a few puns in here. I'm just so friggin' punny.**

**No? Okay, lame jokes over. Read, enjoy, review, that's all I ask.**

**Disclaimer: Well, if I owned it, I'd have to do all my own voice-overs. That would be shit.  
**

**

* * *

**

Oghren looked over at the dark-haired mage apprehensively, his curiosity running too deep to let his comment go.

'Just ask anyone' he had said with a smirk. Oghren, in his slightly sober state, had taken that as a challenge. The only other mage - who had belonged to the Circle - in a one mile radius was their Warden-Commander, however. And, well, she scared him. No point in denying it, that woman was crazy.

She owned a _very_ warped sense of humour and had enough power at her finger tips to keep any smart man on his toes. That was enough to send all walks of life running for the hills.

And, she had a very, _very_ short temper. Even for an elf. That possibly made it worse.

On that note, he looked over at the Commander, who was laughing away with the new recruits in an attempt to make them feel at home. Poor buggers would get the shock of their lives when they greet the devils head on. As far as Oghren was concerned, they were just babying them. Pull them off the teet and throw 'em to the wolves is what he had said. He received a smack around the back of the head for it, which was quite a rude gesture from someone as highly regarded as his Commander.

Regardless of the looming peril of posing such a question, curiosity won out. Not ten minutes later, he was alone with the Commander, who was just casually sipping from a large goblet. The way she was eyeing him told him that all plans of subtlety were lost. Well, he wasn't _exactly_ one for subtlety anyway.

"Oghren, is something wrong?"

He grunted, and mulled over his words. "I had an interesting conversation with a mage the other day."

The Commander gave him an amused look and set her goblet down. "Oh, is that so?" She sent him an expectant glance.

"Yes. He, uh, mentioned some things that sound something like a nughumper like him would say, but ..." Oghren trailed off, not looking at her.

"You want some clarification?"

"Yep. First, real reason you wear the robes."

"Laced with enchantments that improve spellcasting, power and the like." She paused, eyeing him. "I don't see your angle, Oghren, just spit it out already."

"That's not what Anders told me," Oghren blurted, before realising his mistake.

The Commander paused, her eyes slowly narrowing. "Anders?"

_Busted_.

"He may - or may _not_ - have mentioned the real reason you have dresses is so you can grease the old sword without those Templar bastards noticing."

Ten seconds it took before her face went as red as her robes.

"And you _believed_ him?" she thundered, just like her namesake.

"He said 'ask anyone'."

"So you asked _me_? Oh, that is just bloody _brilliant_, isn't it?"

She stormed off, feeling a sudden need to fry a certain mage.

Oghren, somewhat pleased she hadn't taken it out on him, grinned and followed. He loved their arguments, they were just ridiculously funny. Although he left whenever _Anders_ said something that make him puke a little. The Commander was a sucker for romantics.

Said Commander disappeared into one of the many rooms, and Oghren pressed his ear against the key hole

* * *

Anders gave a sigh in utter annoyance as he watched all the little recruits laugh and prance around and have a jolly good time together. He was sure it wasn't _that_ fun when he joined the Grey Wardens. Spur of the moment thing that ended up with him facing more broodmothers than there are dwarves in a concubine.

Regardless, he felt an impending doom as his door slammed open and shut just as fast.

"'Ask anyone' he says!"

Anders casually looked over his shoulder and frowned. "What _are_ you talking about?"

Seriously, his Commander was a loony. A respectable person, but a complete and utter lunatic on most occassions.

"I just had Oghren - Oghren! - walk up to me and ask the real reason about the robes! And do you know what he said?"

Anders vaguely remembered such a conversation between the dwarf and himself, and wished he could just curl up into a ball and hide. For the rest of his life.

"Er, no?"

"'That's not what Anders told me'!"

Several curious eyes from the grounds below looked up at his window and he shut it quickly.

"I didn't think he'd _ask_ anyone - especially not you. And even if he did ask, maybe some of the younger mages running around the place. Because, you know how they think."

Of course she knew how they thought - she was one of them once. And, well, hailing from Orlais made things terribly worse. But she kept that little fact to herself.

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing him closely. "Why did you think he wouldn't he ask _me_?"

Anders gaped at her, before frowning. "Sometimes, I just don't understand your logic."

She pouted and Anders sighed._ Bloody lunatic_.

* * *

Realising that all possibilities of a full-blown argument, complete with fireballs and lightning was lost, Oghren left, grumbling.

"Stupid nughumping mages, can't even provide decent entertainment on a good day."

* * *

Before making a witty comment about her logic once more, she was on him in a moment's notice, pushing him onto the desk. Normally, he didn't mind this at all. However, he was sure that sooner or later he was going to pay for his little comment to the dwarf.

_Ah well_, he thought,_ unnecessary sex sounded like a fantastic idea._

Her fingers were running up and down his sides, and he didn't particularly care. He'd gladly let her walk all over him if she was going to do what he hoped she was going to do. And that was the honest to Maker truth.

He was sitting well and truly on the desk without even realising, his back pressed up against the window. He was vaguely aware of the unsuspecting audience below, wondering if they were going to give them a show.

Her fingers had slipped down his thighs, one hand lolling about and palming him, the other trailing further down to the hem of his robe. He realised after a few cloudy moments that she was crouching, but was upright just a quickly, pulling his robe up with her.

With a gruff, "ass up," she had successfully got his robe up around to his hips, and smallclothes on the other side of the room.

Guttural noises left his throat as she stroked him. Placing light kisses along his thighs, she tried to remove her own smalls. Leaning forward, he kissed her, helping her along, letting her smalls join his in some wonderful matrimony wherever they landed.

Anders ran his fingers over the lips of her womanhood, swallowing her light mewl with a grin.

Helping her onto the desk, he leaned back. With knees either side of his thighs, his tip at her entrance, she stopped.

He hated it when she did this. It always managed to remind him of one of his times at the Circle, between the shelves of the library, right before a Templar caught him and another mage. What a _mess _that had been.

"Maker, is _now_ the right time to have an epiphany?" he growled.

She grinned wickedly and slammed down, throwing her head back and moaning. He groaned, eyes clamping shut. Latching his hands on her hips, he _attempted_ to get her to move.

And she did, ridiculously slowly as well. Anders responded with fervour, pushing up into her with twice the speed she was moving.

Grasping her chin between thumb and forefinger, he kissed her roughly, planted his feet firmly against the desk and slammed upwards. She moaned loudly, maybe a little _too_ loud, and he repeated the action. Grinning, she increased her tempo, them meeting each other with every arch, stroke and breath.

A deep burning filled her belly, and hazily she was reminded of an unfortunate incident with poison, bandages and stew. Her befuddled brain made no sense of the situation, so her body made the decision.

"Anders," she whimpered into his ear, and repeated those two syllables over and over, gaining volume.

Feeling the end nearing, he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer. The angle changed, and it was quite appreciated as several thrusts later, the Commander was but a sweating, frazzled mess with a very satisfied grin planted on her face.

He too, and he made very little effort to move. He watched her as she wiped the loose strands of hair out of her eyes. Somewhere in the very indecent actions, she had pulled his hair out of its ponytail. He didn't mind, but she put it back up regardless, if a little sloppily.

Slowly, she removed herself from him, finding her limbs but a mass of jelly.

Anders sighed, and made no move to restore his robe, and hide himself away. Instead, he opted to watch her as she retrieved her smalls, pulled them on and proceeded with straightening herself up. Such a _princess_.

Noticing that he hadn't moved, she frowned. "Anders, what if someone comes through that door right and you aren't even decent?"

"I'll tell them that you are demon in the sack - or should I say robe? I think _robe_ is the more appropriate term here."

She flushed, but grinned nevertheless.

He did do as she had faintly suggested, however, and walked her to the door. Looking over his shoulder he smirked.

"You know, I'll never be able to use that desk again without having to attend to myself - regularly, it seems. Care to stay a little longer?"

She swatted him, and sauntered away, laughing.

Anders watched her until she turned a corner. Wandering back over to his desk, he collected to papers that had been scattered. Looking out over the recruits, he noticed that none of them _seemed_ to have noticed what had been going on moments before, beside a little elf who was gaping at him.

Anders grinned at the elf, shrugged like nothing had happened of immense interest, and wandered to the mess hall, feeling quite hungry after such exertions.

* * *

Oghren grinned when the Commander made a shortcut through the hall. He noticed the way she was walking, and the expression on her face. Had he known that she ended arguments with sex, he might've jumped up to the opportunity earlier.

His grin widened when Anders emerged moments later, seeming _very_ pleased with himself.

The mage spotted the dwarf, and sat across from him, oblivious to the youth who eyed him curiously.

"Anders, this here's Ciaran. Ciaran, this here's a pansy."

Noticing the brown-haired boy, Anders shook his hand and looked back at Oghren. Ciaran, however, kept his eyes on Anders, quite confused.

"Why is it that mages wear robes? Even the males? Aren't they ... _impractical_?"

Oghren and Anders shared a wicked glance before Anders turned to face the youth, face lit up.

"Funny you should mention that ..."

* * *

**Just to put this out there: Oghren did leave well and truly before the sex. I mean, he's a pervert, but I'd expect _Zevran_ to be hanging around over him anyday. So I added that little unnecessary bit, about Oghren leaving, in. Just because I know that someone is going to be all 'EWWW OGHREN WATCHED!"**

**Review please :)  
**


End file.
